Is it not enough
that my mind is haunted
with dark monsters?

creatures of doubt
that creep around
corners with pins,
and whisper "failure"
lovingly to every bright
balloon of hope.

spiders of anxiety
crawl over
flowers of bravery
and spin a web
that makes
courage cower.
bravery buckle.
power petrified.

Is it not enough
that I battle
my own brain?
would I rather have
the life to match?
to 'justify'
my art,
my work,
my ****** expressions?

I wasn't aware
that I have to earn
depression---
that I first must
live a life worthy
of sadness

And now I question
if I'm just
broken
spoiled
or should quest for
the existence to
more properly fit
the mind
I was born with.

Glassed with cold sleep and dazzled by the moon,
out of the confused hammering dark of the train
I looked and saw under the moon's cold sheet
your delicate dry *******, country that built my heart;
and the small trees on their uncoloured *****
like poetry moved, articulate and sharp
and purposeful under the great dry flight of air,
under the crosswise currents of wind and star.
Clench down your strength, box-tree and ironbark.
Break with your violent root the ****** rock.
Draw from the flying dark its breath of dew
till the unliving come to life in you.
Be over the blind rock a skin of sense,
under the barren height a slender dance...
I woke and saw the dark small trees that burn
suddenly into flowers more lovely that the white moon.

Did nature make anything more beautiful than a girl?
Silk hair bouncing, the ends have soft curl.

Skin as smooth as the pedal of a rose,
Eyes enchanting, never want them to close.

Two lips enticing, watching them move,
Silky red lipstick gets on my groove.

Some women's lips, they like to pout,
When laid upon you, you may want to shout!

Subtle curves, all down the neck,
Smooth and appealing, it makes me a wreck!

Continuing south, we stop at the chest,
Round and firm, I like them the best.

Stand and salute, point towards the sky,
Kissing and fondling can get you real high.

The back and the stomach can be overlooked,
Sleek and shapely, my hands in the nook,

Of her lower back, both seductive and hot,
A little further down, is an erogenous spot.  

Her sweet tender box, the ultimate prize,
To kiss and caress, brings tears to my eyes.

Inject into it her prize, throbbing manly delight,
Making love to a woman is a wonderful sight.

Pushing and grinding, the sweat on the ground,
Tape your love session, it's a wondrous sound.

The question remains, words soar and they swirl,
Is there beauty on the planet, that compares to a girl?

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